


This Isn't a Trick

by Rotten (SocksandFluff)



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst, Comfort Later, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Prompt Based, Sickfic, So much angst, emotional angst, fix it later, fluff later, many tears, sportarobbie, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksandFluff/pseuds/Rotten
Summary: Robbie admits his feelings.It doesn't go remotely anywhere close to plan.





	1. Lapel Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I got by empyrealsakaki on tumblr!
> 
> Ugh this hurt my heart so bad to write, you have no idea. I'm so sorry.

There.

Robbie was ready.

He adjusted the flower that he had threaded into the lapel of his tweed jacket, and admired himself in the mirror.

His makeup was on-point, his clothes were pressed and matching, and he even made sure the flower that he threaded into his lapel matched the bunch of flowers that sat on his orange side-table.

He smoothed a single loose strand of hair with a lick of his thumb.

Perfect.

With immense confidence - shadowing over the wobbly-kneed anxiety - he strode out of his lair and into the center of Lazytown with his single-minded purpose.

To admit his feelings for Sportacus.

It had taken weeks of realizing his heart wasn’t in ousting Sportacus anymore, and even more weeks on top of that in realizing he liked to see the stupid hero _smiling and happy_ , and even more time after that... that he was infatuated with him.

Every little thing the hero did was beautiful and wonderful, and though idiotic and strange to Robbie, he loved all of it.

His evil plans went to the wayside and he left himself alone to mull and ponder his feelings before planning to just...

... just ...

 _Tell him_.

So, flowers in hand, he stalked over to where he knew Sportacus was playing with the children.

There he was, the Sportaflip himself, in his radiant glory. Smiling at the kids with his stupid smile, and most-likely talking about his crazed obsession with ‘sportscandy’.

Robbie sighed whistfully, head resting on his hand, admiring the hero for a moment over the wall.

He shook himself.

Right.

Clearing his throat, he straightened, and he strode around the wall with all the gusto he could muster.

“Sportacus -” he started.

The kids and Sportacus whipped around to look at him immediately.

“Robbie Rotten!” The kids announced in familiar chorus. Though that was a bit unwarranted, he wasn’t _doing_ anything that required that chant.

“Yes yes. I want to talk to _Sportacus_ here and-”

“Robbie, what are you doing?” Sportacus asked, eyebrow raised.

The tone caught Robbie off-guard. While not mean in any sense, it had been slightly accusatory.

“What? What am I doing?” Robbie repeated, licking his lips. “I’m doing _nothing_ ,” he immediately defended. “Well. Not nothing,” he worked his upper-lip to calm his nerves. “Here.” He jammed the flowers in Sportacus’ hands.

“...What?”

“For you.”

“... I.. what? Robbie what are you up to?”

“I’m not up to anything! I’m giving you flowers!”

Stephanie was shaking her head, arms crossed. “We don’t believe a word of that.”

Robbie looked around himself to see that he was surrounded by the children’s upset glares.

“Yeah! You’re probably trying to hurt Sportacus!” Ziggy accused.

Robbie winced. “No! I want to tell him-”

“Or you want to get him out of town!”

“Wait No! I-”

“Robbie,” Sportacus started, his voice sharp, but still not unkind - thought it sounded hurt? Disappointed even. The flowers had been put down on the bench, forgotten.

Robbie felt his heart drop. “I-”

“What are you up to?” Sportacus asked him again.

“... I ...”

“ _Robbie_.”

“I wanted to tell you that I _liked_ you!” he blurted.

Sportacus blinked, head tilting, and his mouth turned into an unbelieving frown. “That’s not very funny.”

Robbie’s breath caught, and he felt an ice spread from his stomach.

Sportacus continued, arms crossed, “It’s not very kind to play with feelings like that, Robbie. I know you’re a villain, but I thought you were better than that,” Sportacus chastised. “I didn’t think even you would stoop that low.”

Every word felt like a blow to his stomach and Robbie just stared. “I- I-”

Ziggy added more, “Yeah! That’s really mean! You could hurt someone’s feelings!”

Robbie swallowed, his knees shaking. “I-”

“Robbie what were you think-”

Robbie just ran.

He turned and ran.

He didn’t hear the last of what Sportacus was saying because he was too horrified to listen to anything else.

If anything, he would have been surprised if Sportacus had rejected him but this... _this_...

He sobbed, his back hitting the billboard as he no longer could hold himself upright - when had he gotten here? - stupid. Stupid.

 _Stupid_.

He crumpled the lapel-flower in his hands and just sobbed.

So stupid.

Stupid.

His hands pulled at his hair as he was wracked with misery, every bit of the interaction replaying in his mind and felt like stabs through his gut.

Robbie didn’t initially hear the worried, “Robbie?” he was so buried in his misery and guilt.

Stupid.


	2. Crumpled Letters

Sportacus sat with his back pressed to the billboard, his head buried into his hands, and his hat discarded beside him.

It had been a week since the incident with Robbie in the centre of town.

A week since he had metaphorically ripped Robbie’s heart out and stomped on it without realizing.

A week since he had followed Robbie.

And a week since Robbie had, upon seeing him - tears streaking down his face - escaped into his lair with broken sobs, and locked it tightly behind him.

Sportacus never had a chance to say a word.

Sportacus picked up a crumpled letter beside him, and unfolded it for the thousandth time.

It read, simply;

_It certainly looks like you have made a fine mess of things - fix it, son._

Sportacus crumpled it up again, dropping it beside himself, and buried his face into his hands.

He had - upon realizing his monumental failure and what horrible things he had inadvertently done to the villain - sent a letter to his father and explained his colossal failure.

His father offered no advice.

_Fix it, son._

Because, how could his father tell him anything more than just that? There was nothing that his father could do to help him. Sportacus was the one at fault here.

But... but-

Sportacus cleared his throat, feeling heat press against the back of his eyes and swiped at his eyes furiously blinking back unbidden tears.

What kind of hero was he? What kind of _person_ was he?

How could he have done such a horrible thing to Robbie?

He had just seen the man and... and he just... assumed. He had assumed and never thought anything otherwise.

He had just seen Robbie, immediately thought the worst - for whatever reason - and never let him explain himself.

Sportacus, thinking about it now that he had all the time in the world to do so, painfully realized that Robbie had actually been rather _good_ the past while.

No more evil schemes to oust him from town...

No more schemes to stop the kids playing.

If anything, his schemes were harmless and silly and Robbie -

Good, good Robbie, always seemed to be having _fun_ all the while.

Sportacus swallowed again, this time a choke escaped his tightened hold over himself.

And now, because of _him,_ Robbie was locked up in his lair.

He hadn’t seen the man in a week.

No matter what Sportacus did, what Sportacus said - how Sportacus _pleaded -_ he didn’t hear a sound coming from the bunker.

“Robbie... please...”

At this point, he didn’t even want Robbie to forgive him - but he wanted to say sorry...

Sportacus wanted to say sorry for assuming.

He wanted to say sorry for judging him.

For putting aside those flowers...

For ignoring all the signs...

He wanted to say sorry that his own mistrust of his own feelings made him disbelieve what was happening enough to be so cruel.

He wanted to say sorry that he buried his _own_ feelings so deeply he didn’t - and refused - to see the truth.

He wanted to say sorry.

But Robbie was as good as gone right then. Not a sound. Not a peep.

He didn’t know what to do.

Sportacus would have sat there for hours longer than he already had if the frantic beeping of his crystal hadn’t cut through his thoughts like an icy knife to the chest.

He stood. “Someone’s in trouble!”

The ice spread into his chest further when he realized -

“Robbie!”

He scrambled around the billboard, and nearly slammed into the sealed hatch.

“Robbie! Robbie open up!”

His crystal beeped frantically in his ears.

Normally his crystal was temperamental when it came to the villain, but this time he could feel it ringing for him loud and true.

“Robbie please! Robbie open up!”

Silence.

Sportacus kicked the hatch.

“Robbie open up!”

What if Robbie _couldn’t_? What if Robbie _couldn’t get to the hatch!?_

Sportacus froze, breathing, his fists clenching.

This was his fault.

He took a few steps back, and at a run, he kicked the hatch again.

 _CRACK_.

_BANG._

The hatch practically _flew_ off it’s hinges and slammed into the back of the billboard with such force that it left a dent.

Sportacus jumped into the opening.

“Robbie!”

Sportacus ran into the lair.

And he found Robbie...

... Sprawled in his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got such a visceral response from people to continue...  
> ... SO I DID...
> 
> I couldn't handle the angst either.
> 
> So. Obviously. I just put more angst in and leave it on a cliffhanger. Because I... I dunno! 
> 
> More to come!


	3. Dimmed Lights

“Robbie!” Sportacus cried.

Robbie looked like a dead man where he lay so pale and unmoving against his bright-orange chair like a near corpse. And if Sportacus’ crystal wasn’t screaming at him, it wouldn’t be so hard to believe that the man was dead.

Sportacus scrambled for his pulse and the vice that was clamped tightly around his chest lessened when the familiar thudding of Robbie’s heart came to his fingertips through the oddly-cold skin.

“Robbie,” Sportacus tilted the unresponsive man’s face toward him, now assured that there was life to be had, and he cupped the back of his head with his hand. “Robbie please.”

Nothing.

“Robbie?”

Sportacus bent his head forward and he felt short puffs of breath, against his ear but still, there was no response.

He acted; and wasting no time, Sportacus reached, pulling Robbie out of his chair and up into his arms.

This was his fault.

 _This had to be his fault_.

He was going to fix this.

 

* * *

 

“Lights.” Sportacus called, and the airships bright interior dimmed to a quiet calm grey.

“Bed.”

Without complaint that it was ‘too early’ the bed folded down, and Robbie was placed down upon it.

“Robbie,” Sportacus rubbed his hand over the man’s forehead, once he was situated snugly under copious sheets and blankets.

“Ng...” Robbie groaned, his voice sounding dry and mouth sticky.

Sportacus started at the sound - realization hitting him all at once. “Ship! Water!”

Water shot into his hand, and he uncapped the bottle.

Carefully, he tilted Robbie’s head up and pressed the water to his mouth.

“Come on... let’s see if you’ll drink this.” He urged quietly, “You’re dehydrated...”

Sportacus could almost laugh in relief when Robbie subconsciously drank the water proffered to him - were this a lighter time, he would have gently teased Robbie for not balking at it.

When Sportacus eventually pulled the bottle away, grey eyes slowly blinked blearily open.

“Wh-”

“Robbie!”

The villain’s eyes started to flicker shut again, and Sportacus put down the water to take up Robbie’s hand. “No no, Robbie. Wake up,” he squeezed the hand. “Look at me.”

Robbie’s eyes blinked and refocused, and eventually wandered to Sportacus.

What happened next happened all at once.

Robbie’s breath choked and he jerked backward. “Sp-Sportacus!” Robbie cried, voice raw.

“Woah-!”

Robbie tried to scramble back, yanking his hand out of Sportacus’ own.

“No! _Not you_!” Those words felt like a well-deserved javelin to Sportacus’ heart. _Not you_.

“W-... no no no,” Robbie half-babbled, and his knees drew close to himself, his hands gripping his hair. “No! No...”

“Robbie...” Sportacus tried to reach his hand out, but Robbie slapped it away.

Sportacus drew back.

Robbie’s expression wasn’t that of deliberate malice, his eyes were hazy and his expression more scared and confused than anything else. Robbie likely didn’t know where he was.

Robbie was probably delirious.

His next words confirmed Sportacus’ suspicions. “S’... s’a’dream...”

“No no. No Robbie. It’s not a dream. You’re really here. It’s me,” Sportacus swallowed, and felt his voice catch. “Sportacus.”

Robbie’s eyes snapped to him again. “Sport- Sportacus.”

“Yes.”

“You-” Robbie looked around himself. “The airship?”

“Yes.” Sportacus encouraged.

“I...” Robbie’s eyebrows furrowed, his breathing still scared, “You’re Sportacus.”

“ _Yes.”_

Sportacus braced himself for a lashing of anger - or _something_ \- but that didn’t happen.

What _did_ happen, however, was Robbie suddenly dissolving into tears. “I’m _\- I’m sorry!”_

“No! No Robbie! Don’t be sorry!” Sportacus tested reaching out for his shoulder and thankfully met no resistance. He gripped as comfortingly as he could manage.

Robbie’s hands covered his face. “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have- But I- I- I wasn’t... I wasn’t- doing anything... I promise... _I promise._ ”

Sportacus felt that javelin in his chest twist.

“No Robbie. No.” Sportacus tugged Robbie toward himself and wrapped his arms around him as securely as he could.

This was so _wrong_.

“I’m sorry Robbie. I’m the one who is sorry. I made a mistake,” Sportacus said, just holding Robbie tightly to himself. “It was me. I was wrong. You were not. You did _nothing wrong.”_ Sportacus tried to keep his voice steady, but it kept catching as he spoke.

Robbie’s hands weakly gripped the back of Sportacus’ vest.

“I wasn’t don’t anything... I promise... I just- I just wanted-”

Sportacus hushed him. “I know... I _know_...”

Robbie was probably too delirious for any of this to stick, but Sportacus still felt he _had to say it_. “You did nothing wrong. You did absolutely nothing wrong. It was all me? Do you understand? Me. I was wrong. And the flowers, Robbie? The flowers were wonderful, Robbie. Thank you.”

Robbie’s voice slurred, still tight and mournful, but his reply was soft, “They were blue... reminded me of you...”

“They were beautiful.”

“...I know...” Robbie let loose a shuddering breath. “They reminded me- reminded me of _you_...”

Damn it.

Sportacus looked up, breathing, trying to blink away tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks. Sportacus didn’t deserve any of this right now. Robbie wasn’t in his right mind - Robbie wouldn’t be saying these things if he wasn’t in the state he was in.

Robbie probably hated him.

Robbie probably was furious with him.

Robbie certainly wasn’t still comparing him to _flowers_ and- and-

He couldn’t let his heart feel so hopeful that those feelings Robbie tried to share were still there at all. Sportacus couldn’t trick himself to believe that Robbie would be so ready to forgive him and- and-

Sportacus opted for silence.

He didn’t feel he deserved any praise from the ill man - it wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve it.

Instead, he just held Robbie close, letting the taller man’s head rest against his chest as he rubbed circles up and down his back until he was calmed.

Then later, once Robbie was relaxed, Sportacus would figure out what had happened to Robbie in the intervening week -

\- And he was going to _fix this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus will certainly fix it - or try till he can't try anymore.
> 
> Thanks for such a great response to such an angsty fic! Every comment is appreciated!
> 
> This fic also got a fanart!  
> By the lovely MorganAnimations!  
> [Click Here!](https://morgan-animations.tumblr.com/post/160288491099/rottensocksandfluff-because-you-made-me-cry-with)


	4. Arm Bracers

When Robbie awoke he could hardly believe any of what happened was real. It had to have been a dream, there was no way that Sportacus had been with him, holding him and whispering repeated apologies to _him_ of all people.

What reason did the Sports-hero have to apologize after all?

He was just the villain.

Everything had been perfectly justified.

 _He_ was the idiot.

Robbie didn’t want to open his eyes however, the idea that his mind would make a dream so sweet only to awake into bitter reality that was his cold dark uncaring lair was just... just -

But he was awake, and the dull throb of a headache was pounding behind his eyes, and his mouth felt dry, and he was both hungry and _not_ and-

Robbie flickered his eyes opened to bat away an uncomfortable weight on his wrist, and saw a streak of blue when he did so.

A bracer? Sportacus’ bracer?

“What...?” he turned his arm over, his navy sleeve had been pushed back, and it looked like the Sports-hero’s bracer was clamped around _his_ wrist.

“What is...? Where-?”

Then Robbie noticed his surroundings.

He shot upright, looking around himself wildly, nearly falling off of the narrow bed.

“ _What!?”_

Why was -

Why was he -

Then it wasn’t a- a-

Oh no.

Robbie felt panic rise into his chest, and he tried to scramble out of the bed, but the world tilted and it wasn’t because he was on a stupid airship.

He fell to his side, his cheek pressed against the cool white flooring of the airship.

The bracer on his forearm made a faint - so faint - beeping sound.

“... What?” he half-slurred, and he looked at his arm again.

He smoothed his hand across the surface - and a small panel opened.

What the -?

It had a rudimentary screen inside, and seemed to be taking vital signs?

Ugh. He closed his eyes. His mind hurt. He didn’t want to be here. What was happening? What if Sportacus -

 _Sportacus_.

Robbie shot up again, willing himself to ignore the wave of lightheadedness.

Oh god. Sportacus. If _he_ was now on the airship then Sportacus could -

 _Robbie_ _had to get off the airship_.

Robbie couldn’t be anywhere _near_ Sportacus right now.

Maybe ever.

Not after - Not after -

Robbie tried to scramble to his feet - he ignored the beeping of the bracer - and he supported himself against the wall, his legs shaking badly.

Damn it. Damn it...

Robbie knew that he should have eaten more, but he hadn’t been _hungry_ and now -

He slid against the wall, knees wobbling, bracer beeping, and praying against all hope that Sportacus wasn’t going to come flip-flippitying onto the ship.

Robbie nearly collapsed when he got to the door, his mouth was dry, his heart was thumping in his skull, and his hands felt weak.

He pressed against the door.

Nothing.

He tried to shoulder the door.

Still nothing.

“Let,” he weakly rammed it, “Me,” he rammed it again, “Out!”

Nothing.

“Please,” he begged, and he half-expected a snotty response from the on-board computer.

Silence.

“Please. Please let me out. Please.” He slid down the wall beside the door. “I can’t... I can’t let...”

He wasn’t sure. He just knew that he had to go, and had to _leave_. He just couldn’t - he couldn’t face any of it right now.

He couldn’t.

He shouldn’t even _be here_.

He didn’t _deserve any of this_.

Robbie gripped at his hair, and the beeping on the bracer just rung into his ears.

The door to the airship flung open as if he was given some form of mercy but before he could even think of moving to leave - someone entered.

“Robbie!? My crystal-”

Sportacus was panting, red-faced and holding a bag over his shoulder.

“Robbie?” Sportacus shouted into the airship, and took a nasty start when he saw that there was no-one in the bed, “Robbie!?”; but he was quick to notice the figure on the floor next to the door.

Oh no. Robbie wanted to ball up, and when Sportacus noticed him, “Robbie!” the villain instinctively curled up and away from the outstretched hand.

“My crystal, it was going off, are you -?”

“Go away.” Robbie croaked, and he tried to hide his face. No. This couldn’t be happening.

There was no way that dream was _real_.

“Here,” Sportacus softly breathed.

Sportacus hand softly took his right, and peaking between the fingers of his left hand, Robbie saw Sportacus turn his arm over to look at the revealed screen on the bracer.

He also noticed that Sportacus was missing one of his own bracers.

Sportacus clicked the screen shut. “We have to get you back in bed,” Sportacus dropped the bag and swept Robbie up into his arms.

Robbie squawked, wrapping his arms around Sportacus’ neck.

Was this a dream too?

Or could it possibly - ?

Before he could bury his face into Sportacus’ neck - figment, dream or otherwise - Robbie was placed back onto the mattress and tucked into warm soft white sheets.

“I brought - I brought food.” Sportacus started, kneeling down beside the bed after he closed the airship door and gathered up his bag again.

“Is this a dream?” Robbie suddenly asked.

“What? No. No Robbie, this isn’t a dream.”

“This has to be dream.”

“No! This isn’t a dream,” Sportacus assured and Robbie felt a hand on his forehead. “You aren’t dreaming.”

The hand felt real. So real.

“I-... okay...” Robbie swallowed.

Sportacus tilted his head. “Robbie? Why do you think it’s a dream? You don’t have a fever -”

Robbie frowned, “It just... I was the one who made the mistake so... This can’t be real.” He wheeled his hand. “None of what you did... feels real.”

Sportacus’ expression crumpled. “O-oh. Oh no no no! No Robbie! Robbie... No Robbie this is real. This is _real_.”

It finally hit him.

That hadn’t been a dream.

It really had happened.

Sportacus holding him, Sportacus comforting, and him, him sobbing into the hero...

That had happened.

Oh.

“Don’t be,” Robbie found himself saying brokenly. “Don’t be sorry.”

“But I _am_ ,” Sportacus insisted, reaching for Robbie’s hand, and Robbie drew it back, away from his grasp.

“I - I know - but... Don’t be,” Robbie licked his lips - they were so dry - “It’s my fault anyway.”

“No!” Sportacus protested. “No it’s not. Please, Robbie. It wasn’t your fault. You did _nothing wrong_.”

“But I’m the _villain_ ,” Robbie croaked. “I’m the _villain_ \- and I _always_ do something wrong!”

Sportacus started back for a second.

“No Robbie! No. No you don’t! You don’t always do something wrong!” Sportacus protested. “It was me - I - I did something wrong, Robbie. I did. Not you.”

Robbie looked down at the sheets, and balled his fists into it. He had too much of a headache for this. He didn’t want to talk about this. Ever - preferably.

Sportacus did, however.

This time, Robbie didn’t yank his hand away when Sportacus took it up. “Please, Robbie. It was my fault. I assumed. I made the mistake...”

“But I’m the villain,” Robbie retorted, his voice light. “I can’t - I can’t -” He cleared his throat. “I _shouldn’t -_ It isn’t -”

The hand squeezed his own.

“Shouldn’t what?”

Sportacus _knew_ what. Robbie had blurted it at him during that disastrous incident; and yet Sportacus was prompting him to admit it again?

Why?

Robbie swallowed, and that same fluttering feeling inside of him that had made him dress up -

\- and get the flowers -

\- and work up the strength to admit his feelings -

\- that feeling bubbled all back up like it had been before. Urging and encouraging him to say his feelings once more.

“That... that...” Robbie felt Sportacus’ fingers thread through his, and Robbie looked up at the hero.

“Just say it. I’m listening this time.” Sportacus pressed Robbie’s knuckles against his lips.

Heat flooded Robbie’s cheeks.

Sportacus waited.

“... I-I...” Robbie swallowed, looking anywhere but at the sport-hero’s face. “I... I like you.”

Damn it.

That sounded incredibly childish, didn’t it? Foolish, even. He didn’t sound like an adult man, but rather like a five-year-old admitting their stupid crush and -

Sportacus’ hand squeezed his, breaking his thoughts.

“I know you do,” Sportacus replied, warmly. “I know you do and I am sorry I didn’t _listen_. I am sorry that I thought it was a joke.”

Robbie breathed out, his mouth drawing into a thin line at the painful memory, afraid of what Sportacus’ response would be.

“But Robbie, I - I like you too” Sportacus said, and he rambled on before the full-impact of that statement could hit Robbie’s heart. “I think that’s why I didn’t believe you at first. I think - I think I didn’t think you could of genuinely -... I’m the hero after all. I thought maybe, maybe, you were teasing me. Maybe you found out? I just- You’ve been so wonderful lately, and I’ve always liked you and- You...”

Robbie stared at Sportacus, unable to believe his ears.

Sportacus started to trail off, “And-... I...” Sportacus commented on his expression. “...What?”

“You...” Robbie swallowed. “You... _like_ me... too?”

“Yes!” Sportacus all but cried.

“But I’m the villain!”

“I know!” Sportacus replied, looking equal parts enthusiastic and incredulous over the situation, “and I’m the hero!”

“But - that’s really -”

“Unconventional,” Sportacus insisted, “I know!”

“And, well, I’m not that great of a-”

“Stop it right there,” Sportacus pressed his free hand against Robbie’s lips. “Not another word.”

Robbie silenced.

“I like you too, Robbie,” Sportacus repeated. “I like you too. I have for a while.”

Robbie worked his lips. “... Are you _sure_ this isn’t a dream?” he said weakly with a chuckle.

Sportacus laughed. “Not a dream.”

“Are you sure?”

Again, Sportacus pressed Robbie’s knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INCOMING FLUFF  
> The angst isn't over yet.  
> Now to find out what the hell happened to Robbie in the intervening week...  
> Sportacus is still feeling super Sportaguilty
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO DAMN MUCH FOR THE COMMENTS. I love and try to respond to every one!


	5. Salted Crackers

Sportacus would certainly be lying to himself if he thought that everything had been solved in that single moment of conversation between the two of them.

They had only just admitted they both _liked_ one another, and had acknowledged their odd sort of ‘frenemy’-but-interested status.

That still didn’t change what had happened before, what Sportacus had done before, and the fact that Robbie was _not_ in a very good condition.

Something that Robbie himself seemed a bit unaware of...

Sportacus was watching Robbie sleep at that moment, holding the man’s arm to look at the bracer’s small fold-out screen.

Sportacus wasn’t too fond of what he was seeing on the readout.

While Robbie hadn’t had a fever before - in fact, it was quite the opposite, his skin had been rather cold and dry - he certainly had a low-grade one _now_.

Not to mention the sheen of sweat starting to coat him, having been fuelled by the water Sportacus insisted Robbie drank before he fell back to sleep.

The computer had told him Robbie had been rather dehydrated - _quite_ dehydrated - suffering from extreme lack of sleep, and possibly undernourishment? It was hard to tell, but it did inform him the past week had not been exactly filled with much eating, even of Robbie’s usually _questionable_ diet.

So, all of this, despite the warm conversation from before, just made Sportacus’ previous guilt feel _worse_.

Robbie had been so distraught by what had happened that he hadn’t been eating, drinking or _sleeping_ right.

It also didn’t help his feelings at all that he got another letter from his father.

A letter that was unopened and sitting on his table waiting to be read.

Sportacus wanted to ignore it.

Sportacus set down Robbie’s arm, and tucked it gently under the sheets. He brushed back some of the man’s sweaty hair, and wished that he could reverse time so the past week never happened, that he had never been so cruel, that they could just start from the point where Robbie gave him the flowers and he would have just _accepted_ them...

But life wasn’t so easy.

Well. At least Robbie heard that he liked him too - that was a start; and Sportacus was going to _take care of him_ , and that was hopefully something else too.

Finally, after staring at the quiet man for a good few minutes, the letter burning a hole in the back of his head got the better of him, and Sportacus moved to fetch and open it.

He sat down cross-legged on the floor beside the sleeping villain, and hesitantly popped open the letter tube.

The scroll of paper fell into his hand, and he could see there was more writing on it than the last one’s scant amount.

Sportacus hadn’t sent a reply letter and yet here was another letter from his father.

What was going to be in it?

Berating comments?

Chastising ones?

Mentioning of being disappointed?

Suggestions of what to do?

Or what _should_ have been done?

Not that Sportacus felt undeserving of any of that - he deserved every word - but it still made his stomach twist in thinking that’s what was there.

Taking a breath, Sportacus scrolled the letter open.

_Son,_

_If I am correct, you have probably started in fixing the situation? You probably have - haven’t you? You didn’t reply to my letter, and I can only assume that means you have decided to act on what has happened._

_While I am disappointed, in a way, at what you have told me that happened, I am proud that you told me._

_I am proud that you have decided to fix this._

_I am also proud that you seem to care so much about even the town’s villain to feel such guilt. That is a mark of a good heart._

_But do not tear yourself up as you did so heartily in your letter. You are very good at feeling guilty, and in not forgiving yourself._

_You have taken the right steps - if I am correct - if you decided to fix this._

_You aren’t a bad person, son._

_You merely are one that made a mistake._

_Remember, just do your best. Do what is right. Do what is right for yourself. Do what you know you should do._

_Fix it, son._

_\- Love, Pabbi_

Sportacus took a breath, and put his hand over his eyes.

Oh how he loved his father.

Sportacus steeled his breath, and laughed a little through the mist that threatened to cause tears to fall down his cheeks.

His father was right, he supposed, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel horrible for what he did.

He was going to fix all of this.

His next step was repairing what the past week had done to the ailing villain.

The shifting of sheets caught Sportacus’ attention and he up at Robbie, whose breathing was slightly picking up.

Sportacus shot up, grabbing the bracer to check him.

Pulse high. Fever was definitely up - but not dangerously so.

Nightmare?

Sportacus leaned over Robbie, and gently pat his face.

“Robbie...”

Robbie’s eyebrows furrowed, and he moaned under his breath. “Nnsh...vill...”

“Robbie.”

“N’t... evl...”

“Robbie,” Sportacus pat his face again, smoothing a thumb over a flushed cheek.

Grey eyes flickered open. “... Sportakook...?”

Sportacus laughed a little. “That’s me, Robbie. Come on,” he glanced at the screen, “let’s get you upright.”

Robbie sighed out, sleep still caught in his eyes, and his stress from before was still terribly evident.

“But... but...”

“It’s okay. I’m here. Remember?” Sportacus tried to encourage, gently helping Robbie to sit up - and to further distract him from whatever nightmare had been plaguing him.

“... Right...” Robbie looked wary, tired, feverish, and a little distant. “... Right.” He looked up at Sportacus. “Airship?”

“Airship,” Sportacus nodded.

“Not a dream?”

“Not a dream.”

Robbie blew out air from his nose, and nodded tiredly.

Now to get down to some business now that Robbie was awake - and not likely to want to sleep for a bit. He had to figure out what had happened ion the past week for the bracer to give such awful readings on, and to get some food into Robbie as well.

Sportacus started with the food. “This says you haven’t eaten in a while,” he gestured to the bracer on Robbie’s arm, “Now that I’ve gotten you to drink enough...” Sportacus dug into the bag he left by the bed, and produced crackers. “... You should eat something.”

Robbie’s glassy eyes looked at the package, his mouth turned downwards. “Not hungry.”

Sportacus shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. “You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Why aren’t you hungry?” he asked, instead of asking him to eat anyway.

“I - just am not...”

“When was the last time you ate?” Sportacus asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, holding the box of crackers in his hands.

Robbie seemed to shrink into himself. He didn’t say anything.

 _That_ made the icy twist of guilt in Sportacus’ stomach return. Sportacus had a _very good_ idea of when Robbie had last eaten.

Oh god he was the _worst_.

No matter _what_ his pabbi’s letter said.

“Robbie, it’s important that you eat _something_ ,” Sportacus softly encouraged, keeping his voice level for the sake of Robbie. “Just eat a cracker. Just one.” Sportacus opened the box, and dug for a cracker.

Robbie’s nose wiggled in the way it did when he was uncertain or thinking.

He didn’t move to take it.

“Please? Then I’ll stop being an annoying Sportaloon and leave you be.”

 _That_ made Robbie bark a sudden surprised laugh - not having expected Sportacus to make a joke.

Sportacus chuckled too, holding out the singular cracker.

“Fine,” Robbie took the cracker, and stuffed it in his mouth unceremoniously.

Sportacus handed over the bottle of water so Robbie could wash it down.

“Thank you,” Robbie muttered quietly under his breath, shakily holding the water bottle.

Sportacus only said, “You’re welcome,” because Robbie deserved it, and not because Sportacus felt he deserved any kind of thanks.

This was still his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah that convo wasn't a INSTANT FIX-IT. Real life never works that way...  
> ... but they are getting there.   
> They are getting there.  
> Sportacus, GIVE YOUR ROBBIE LOVE  
> Robbie, don't let Sportasporp drag himself though the mud...  
> Sportacus needs a hug. Seriously  
> They both do.
> 
> THANKS FOR YOUR COMMENTS. I love and try to reply to them all, and is a huge reason I am writing this so darn fast. <3


	6. Bottled Drinks

Robbie awoke slowly, slightly bewildered, and aware that he had no recollection that he had fallen asleep again.

He remembered Sportacus encouraging him to eat something - soda crackers - and to drink something - water - but he remembered little else after that.

Robbie groaned as he sat up. What time was it? Was he still in the airship? Where was -

Sportacus.

Thinking about Sportacus still made his stomach twist, despite what had been said, despite the hug, despite everything that had happened so far. The sort-of confessions, the kiss on the knuckles; despite all of that, the well of ice still bubbled in his stomach, and Robbie felt any hunger that he had awoken with drain away.

That had been the problem in the first place.

Why he was like this?

He knew he should have eaten.

He knew he should have drunk more.

But whenever he thought of Sportacus, he was transported back to _that_ moment, and the ice formed, and all of his needs fell to the side and he rather just curl up on his chair and ignore them.

It wasn’t a very healthy way to cope - but he literally hadn’t felt hungry; and he didn’t feel hungry anymore right then either.

Robbie wanted to whine, to pull the covers back over his head and will the situation from his mind. However, his brain just didn’t want to let go of the subject. It wanted to tumble it around and around in his head for infinity it seemed.

It wanted to replay that horrible moment again and again _despite_ all that happened.

He hated his mind.

Robbie curled up on his side, not seeing the tray of food that had been left for him, or the water, and his mind just ran rampant.

He eventually fell back into a fitful sleep - trying hard to focus on what had happened between him and Sportacus _since_ the incident. Not the incident itself.

He ultimately failed.

 

* * *

 

Robbie was woken by Sportacus some time later - Robbie had no idea how long he had been out for, but a heavy feeling of grogginess and too-much-sleep clung to him like lead behind his eyes.

“... Wh...?” he blurry said as he tried to focus on Sportacus before him.

“Robbie please drink something.”

That ice clenched back and Robbie closed his over-tired and over-slept eyes. “Not thr’sty...” he mumbled, feeling the pull of sleep pull him downward.

“You have to drink something,” Sportacus’ voice cut annoyingly through the dark.

“N’ I don’t,” Robbie peeked one grey eye open. “Not thr’sty.”

Sportacus’ expression was not one of gentle scolding like he was familiar with - or expected - it was drawn and pale and extremely worried. It was then that Robbie realized that the crystal was humming against the hero’s chest, and his hand - Robbie’s hand - was in Sportacus’ and he hadn’t even noticed.

What he noticed wasn’t the bracer that Sportacus was looking at, but it was the difference in tones between his and Sportacus’ skin.

Wow he was _pale_.

He knew that Sportacus was tan, but this was a whole ‘nother level of pale next to the hero’s skin tone.

Robbie looked almost gray.

... Or _was_ he gray?

“Robbie. Drink something,” Sportacus held out a bottle of liquid.

With his free hand - the one that wasn’t clasped in Sportacus’ he shakily took it.

He really wasn’t thirsty still.

But he could feel those blue eyes looking at him even though his own gaze was locked on the bottle. He took a sip.

It wasn’t water.

He got a powerful taste of _something_. It was very sweet? Salty? Savory? Bitter or sour? There was something gritty about it too - like a fine sand or maybe it was the dryness of his mouth. Well, whatever it was, it was a intense wave of taste after so many days of nothing.

He nearly spat it out.

Robbie didn’t though, and swallowed thickly.

“What _is that_?” Robbie accused, looking at the hero.

“It’s something to help you.”

Robbie looked at the bottle, feeling something deep in his core want more of it. However _revolting_ it was.

He even felt more awake.

Robbie worked his upper lip, feeling the tug of exhaustion ever-present, but the lead had lessened. He decided to defeat the beast of sleep before him and take another few healthy swigs of the stuff.

Each mouthful was as bad as the first, but it was somehow easier.

He didn’t know how _starving_ he was, or thirsty, really, and the first mouthful had somehow activated what he had been ignoring for the past few days.

Robbie blinked, feeling more awake than he had felt in _days_ , and his mind was clearer too.

The humming of Sportacus’ crystal had stopped, and when he finally chanced a look at the hero, the worried expression he wore while looking at the bracer had significantly calmed.

“What is _in_ that?”

Sportacus was still holding Robbie’s hand, their fingers somehow had laced through the intervening moments of Sportacus waiting for Robbie to drink what was given to him.

“A lot of nutrients, electrolytes, sugar, elvish herbs... m...c...” Sportacus mumbled something else before continuing, “You know, things you need.”

Robbie let his eyebrows furrow. He was glad for the distraction of the drink instead of letting his mind wander where it wanted to.

“What was that last ingredient?” he queried

“Elvish herbs...”

Robbie shook his head. “No that wasn’t it.” He turned the bottle in his hand. “You said something else.”

Sportacus shifted a little. “Magic.”

Silence.

Wait.

What.

“ _Sportacus_ ,” Robbie balked.

“What! I had to do _something_!”

“You can’t- you can’t _waste magic_ on something like that! That’s dangerous!”

“I wasn’t wasting it!” Sportacus argued.

“Oh yes you were! Suspending magic into food _isn’t easy_. Believe me, _I know_. I’ve done it before,” Robbie growled. “Why did you do something so stupid!”

“Because you weren’t _eating enough_ , Robbie!” Sportacus cried. “You drank some water when you first came here, and ate a couple of crackers, but you haven’t eaten anything _since_. You were severely dehydrated and you have a fever and you... you...”

Robbie could _feel_ the guilt wafting off of Sportacus.

He felt it within himself too. The same icy pitting guilt that put him in this position health-wise in the damned _first place_.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie quickly said. “I didn’t mean to not eat.” It was just something that happened.

“Robbie I’m not _angry_ at you I’m -”

“I _know_ you’re not - you’re angry at _you_ ,” Robbie cut him off with a growl.

Sportacus froze, but didn’t pull his hand away, and also didn’t refute what was said.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie repeated. “This is my fault.”

“No it _isn’t_ ,” Sportacus replied, and Robbie felt that this was going to be the repeat of a previous conversation if he didn’t stop it right then.

“Oh yes it _is_.” Robbie insisted, “I’m the one that chose not to eat, Sportaidiot. Don’t try to pin that one on yourself.”

Sportacus looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but the look that Robbie gave him was thankfully so pointed that the hero veered into a slightly tangent.

“Why wouldn’t you eat?” Sportacus asked instead.

“Pardon?”

“Why then? If it wasn’t me?”

Robbie suddenly didn’t want to be having this conversation anymore.

Robbie wiggled his nose and busied himself with taking another swig of the disgusting elixir instead of giving a response.

“Robbie,” Sportacus pleaded.

Robbie put down the bottle. “Because... because I can’t stop thinking about...” he wheeled his free hand. “... That,” he admitted.

Sportacus drooped.

Damn it. _This_ was why he didn’t want to talk about it!

“So it is-”

“No it’s _not_!” Robbie cried, the drink having given him quite the boost of energy. “It is _not_ your damned fault! Stop it! Look. Just because - just because we _talked_ about it before... and- and- just because we _said things_ and- and- just because we cleared things up doesn’t mean that what happened _didn’t happen_.”

“Robbie I-”

“No! Shut up! I’m not done. _Just because_ I... I am sorry that what happened happened, and I know now- I know now that you didn’t mean it.” Robbie squeezed Sportacus’ hand. “Do you hear me? _I know you didn’t mean it._ I know that. It was a mistake. I understand. _I forgive you.”_

For god-sake, Sportacus, stop looking so damned sad.

“R-robbie...”

“No! I forgive you. Listen,” Robbie squeezed his hand again. “But just because I do - it doesn’t mean what happened, or what I felt or _how I felt_ , or that past week or the moments leading up to now _didn’t happen_. Because they _did_. They still _did_ happen. I had a week of disgusting self-centered self-pity, Sportacus. That doesn’t go away immediately.”

Sportacus was going to open his mouth to speak.

“Shut it. Look. I don’t blame you for what happened, but I still have to- have to- process all of this. I just- I cope with things badly. My mind gets too worked up and I forget to eat and I don’t feel hungry and... it’s just something that happens to me.”

Mind, not nearly this bad, but it had been a rather emotionally traumatic event for him.

“So even though I know the truth of what happened...” Robbie sighed. “I still will think back on that moment with some pain, okay? That’s - that’s not bad it’s just... It’s just how life works sometimes.”

Sportacus still looked drooped.

Robbie cleared his throat, he hadn’t realized his voice had gotten shaky. “Anyway - I seem to deal with stress by destroying myself physically... you seem to do it mentally.”

Sportacus actually snorted.

“We’re both idiots,” Robbie continued.

Sportacus nodded.

“And we’re both at fault - and we’re _both sorry_.”

Sportacus looked back up at Robbie - his head had been bowed during Robbie’s tirade. His eyes were watery, but the gentle smile was genuine.

Their hands were still interlocked.

“Look. We will just have to deal with this. You- you keep me from destroying myself physically and... and I guess I’ll help you from destroying yourself mentally, and between the two of us, we won’t be a huge walking-talking disaster.”

Sportacus laughed.

The image before him reminded Robbie of why he got the idiot flowers in the first place.

“We’ll fix this,” Robbie said softly.

Sportacus nodded.

Silence fell between them, Robbie felt tired after the explosion of emotion of and energy. Though, despite the tiredness, the icy pit of anxiety had eased quite a bit - like blurting it all out at Sportacus had done his own mind some healing.

“Hey Sportacus?”

“Hmn?”

“I like you.”

Sportacus chuckled. “I like you too, Robbie.”

Yep.

Things were going to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who has ever felt anxious before, I am sure you know the feeling of thoughts just CLINGING TO YOUR BRAIN AND NEVER LETTING GO. I know I do.
> 
> ANyway~ Thanks so much for reading~ 
> 
> Looks like things are definitely looking up for these two. <3


End file.
